nerves were already so much on edge that he leaped half-way out of
his chair and upset the remainder of a pint of ale upon the table-
cloth.

The fellow offered to show him to the smoking-room when he had
done; and although he would have much preferred to return at once
to his perilous treasure, he had not the courage to refuse, and was
shown downstairs to the black, gas-lit cellar, which formed, and
possibly still forms, the divan of the Craven Hotel.

Two very sad betting men were playing billiards, attended by a
moist, consumptive marker; and for the moment Silas imagined that
these were the only occupants of the apartment. But at the next
glance his eye fell upon a person smoking in the farthest corner,
with lowered eyes and a most respectable and modest aspect. He
knew at once that he had seen the face before; and, in spite of the
entire change of clothes, recognised the man whom he had found
seated on a post at the entrance to Box Court, and who had helped
him to carry the trunk to and from the carriage. The New-Englander
simply turned and ran, nor did he pause until he had locked and
bolted himself into his bedroom.

There, all night long, a prey to the most terrible imaginations, he
watched beside the fatal boxful of dead flesh. The suggestion of
the boots that his trunk was full of gold inspired him with all
manner of new terrors, if he so much as dared to close an eye; and
the presence in the smoking-room, and under an obvious disguise, of
the loiterer from Box Court convinced him that he was once more the
centre of obscure machinations.